


Silent Lullabies

by Rising_Phoenix



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bandage, Battered, Blocking, Bridge - Freeform, Broken, Cabinet - Freeform, Cold, Community - Freeform, Contact - Freeform, Dark, Darkness, Deaf, Dirt - Freeform, Doctor - Freeform, Embrace, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fire, Flirting, Going back, Group, Headlights, Help, Highway, Home, Ice, Laces, Lights, Magnificent, Men - Freeform, Motorbikes, Overcoat, RV, Revenge, Rooms, Rude - Freeform, Running, Sign Language, Swollen, Trees, Trucks, Walkers, Weapons, Wrapping, Writing, abandoned, ankle, arrogant, black door, blanket, blocked roads, bruised, chilly, close, dislike, gravel, gun - Freeform, hallway, hand holding, hung, icepack, joining, knees, knife, leaves, lemonade, light - Freeform, logs, maze, messages, mobile home - Freeform, numerous - Freeform, pitcher, roadways, romantic, rope, scavenging, scribbling, separating, shoe, speaking, sprained, stick, wood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: Negan falls for a deaf woman he meets in an abandoned home





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work title may change
> 
> Will be updated once more ideas arise
> 
> Italics = Conversations between Negan/others and ofc
> 
> Regular font = Conversation between Negan and others

Empty. This whole godforsaken house was empty, void of any clothing, weapons, or food, not even a crumb on the countertops.

But yet, I still continued to search in hopes that something would magically appear, refusing to believe that a big abandoned house like this was really completely desolate.

Refusing to give up just yet I made my way back upstairs and left no room unchecked searching drawers, closets, in and under the beds.

Nothing.

Annoyingly I amble back downstairs, only to find trouble waiting for me: burly men with cocky grins pointing their weapons in my direction.

Where in the fuck did they come from?

Shit, right now I can only wonder as I slowly raise my hands midway into the air, surrendering myself as there were too many of them to take on with only five bullets and a pocket knife.

"Well, well-" a rugged looking man steps forward.

Judging by the aging lines and the salt and pepper beard, I figured he must have been no older than forty

"It seems we don't have to leave here empty handed after all fellas" he chuckles, inching closer, having no regard for personal space, invading every single inch that existed in between us, my y/e/c orbs getting a better, up close and personal, look at the good looking man that stood before me -- his brown pools of round eyes were deep enough for one to get lost into, thin, rosy lips cocked up into a cocky smirk accentuated by his beard and black slicked back hair.

The man sure was thin in stature but he was tall and intimidating, his whole appearance of black leather and red scarf screaming nothing but trouble.

"She's not a threat, lower your weapons" he orders, every single man behind him dropping their guns, holding them down at their sides

 _"Sweetheart"_ his attention now back on me, grimacing _"You have my permission to lower your arms"_

I see his lips move but hear nothing but silence, desperately trying to read by the movement of his kisser, just what exactly he was trying to convey

The man furrows his brows in confusion, raising his ungloved hand, lowering one of my arms and then the other, even taking my gun from my thigh holster and the knife from inside my pocket, handing them off to one of his men

 _"Safety precaution darling, wouldn't want you to try and pull anything stupid"_ he scoffs, adjusting his hand on the thin end of the barb wired bat that he proudly had propped up on his shoulder, my eyes immediately taking notice, swallowing hard.

He chuckles at my uncomfortableness, lowering the wooden weapon from his shoulder, holding it with both hands, as if it were fragile, made out of glass _"This is Lucille, darling, and she...is...awesome!"_ the man swings the weapon back in place on his shoulder with a snicker _"I'm Negan"_ His hand planted on his chest _"Those are my men behind me. We call ourselves the Saviors. What is your name sweetheart?"_

I remain silent, shaking my head in bewilderment, raising my hands to sign to him that I was deaf but he stops me, the fingers of his gloved hand grabbing a strong hold of my chin, dark eyes heatedly glaring intently into those of my own, his lips pursed and narrow _"Didn't your parents ever teach you to speak when fucking spoken to?"_

He waits, growing more and more impatient at  my hush-hush attitude and I, growing more and more impatient by his ignorance and lack of respect, harshly shaking my head away from his grasp, raising my hands and signing to him

_"I am deaf, you fucking asshole. I can't understand a single word you say"_

The man steps back, lips wide into a grin _"Oh shit, well fuck me sideways!"_ He chuckles _"No wonder you've been giving the silent treatment, you're deaf as shit!"_ He whips his head back towards his men "Any of you assholes know sign language?"

One of the men, a tatted, brown haired individual with a stubble beard raises his hand and steps forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man in the leather jacket

"Eddie, how well do you know sign language?"

"Enough, sir"

"Aright, what the fuck did she sign to me just a few minutes ago?"

"She was letting you know that she is deaf sir, how she was unable to understand a single word you said. Called you a fucking asshole"

The man bursts out in laughter, soon gaining his composure, going back to his normal, arrogant self "Alright, so she'll understand, sign to her every single thing I said and add in that I think she is smoking hot and would love for her to come back with me and be my wife"

Eddie moves his hands into thin air, introducing everyone and giving me his boss's message to which I found both flattering and disgusting, sternly denying his request.

"She said no huh?" Negan sighs "Ask her name and if the reason for her denial is because she's already with a group of people"

The tatted individual does as instructed, asking me the questions

_"My name is none of your boss's business and, no group, I'm alone, have been for a long while now"_

Negan cackles at my response, finding it amusing _"Alright, shit, then ask her what the real reason behind her refusal to come with me is"_

 _"Because I don't like him"_ I sign to Eddie, answering his question _"Your boss, Negan, is an arrogant asshole"_ I raise my middle finger and flash it _"Ask him if he understood that"_

Eddie relays the message, Negan nodding his head

_"Alright, fuck it, tell her she's free to go. She doesn't want to come along, I can't fucking force her. It's her fucking loss though"_

Upon getting the message I exhale a sigh of relief, Negan allowing me to go out on my way but with nothing, keeping my weapons and now stealing my backpack.

Regardless, I ran out the door and continued to run as fast as I could, cracking twigs and ducking branches, the hot summer wind brushing against my skin.

I was finally free.......

Or so I thought. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan will reappear at the lineup

Already out of breath but, yet, I still continue to run like the wind to a destination unknown, far away from here, far away from them, my only protection; a large rock too big for my own hand, knocking down walkers with a single swing, blood splattering over a pretty face that continuously glances back because paranoia keeps playing tricks with my head and, just like that, because of my own mistake, I crash, the impact causing me to fall backwards, tripping over a large rock with a thud.

Immediately, I gain my composure and glance up, hand over my forehead, feeling the pounding of an earsplitting headache, y/e/c eyes peering at a tall man with scraggly, brown hair and goatee, that stood before me in a dark, green shirt and black vest.

Casually, he steps forward in his dark boots, and I inch back, quickly grabbing a hold of my ankle, the excruciating pain a sign that it was now either broken or just badly sprained.

 _“Are you one of them?”_ I sign, the man only reciprocating with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, the look of confusion giving away that he, too, had no idea of what I’m saying, only pulling out the olive branch, waiting for me to grab a hold of his hand but I shake my head, my mind telling me he is not one to be trusted.

 _“Come on_ ” he wiggles his outstretched arm in urgency, narrow orbs glancing over my head

What was he looking at?

I turn my own noggin and witness no one, nothing but a dark, dirt covered road and trees, thinking he must have heard something instead, something or someone I clearly couldn’t

 _“Come on”_ he wraps his digits around my arm and helps me up, carrying me, draping me over his shoulder, speed walking down the road with a brisk pace, my hand incessantly slapping against his back _“Stop it, I’m tryin’ to help ya!”_ his words only falling on deaf ears, literally, my hands continuing to slap against him _“Alright, ya know what, ya wanna be one of ‘em, then fine, be my guest!”_ the man lowers me, finally, leaning me against the trunk of a large tree _“I don’t even know ya, why am I botherin’ tryin’ ta save yer life fer anyway?”_ the man turns to walk away but, out of instinct, I reach forward and wrap both hands around his wrist pulling him back

 _“In case you haven’t figured it out already, I’m deaf. I-”_ I stop and shake my head, seeing no point in continuing to sign to someone who obviously has no idea of a single syllable.   

Clearly, I needed another way to communicate with him.

Peeking around me I notice a stick and lean down, carefully, and grab it, writing a message to him on the dirt _“What were you running from, walkers or them?”_ I hand the stick to him. He erases my message by running his foot over the dirt like an etch and sketch and scribbles down a message of his own

 _“Walkers, but we’re safe fer now”_ the man slowly, but sloppily writes, looking around as if to make sure _“Who is ‘them’?”_

 _“Sav-”_ The man’s eyes are filled with hatred, opening wide with each letter I write, his chest poking out, huffing, his behavior signaling to me that he, indeed, did know these people _“io-”_

The man snatches the stick out of my hands, frantically writing across the dirt “ _That’s impossible, we killed them, and their leader”_

 _“Negan?”_ I shake my head and scoff at the man’s naivety _“Clearly, you killed the wrong guy”_

_“Where did ya see ‘em?”_

_“Why should I tell you exactly, I don’t even know you”_

_“Because I helped you, saved yer life from being mauled ta death. The least ya can do is help me”_

I sigh, nodding, taking the stick from his hands _“I met Negan in an abandoned house not too far from here. Asked me to go back with him, be his wife, but I refused. He took my weapons and backpack but he let me go, unharmed”_

The man nods, his hands clenched down at his sides _“What is your name? I’m y/n y/l/n”_ I hand him the stick, the man accepting

_“Daryl Dixon”_

_“Well, thanks for saving my life, Daryl Dixon. You a loner like me also?”_

Daryl shakes his head in denial _“I have a group”_

I nod, grabbing my hair that draped over my shoulder, tossing it back so the strands lay flat down my back, only staring at the man before me

_“Ya wanna come back with me? I’ll vouch for ya”_

_“No strings attached?”_

_“All we’ll ask is for ya ta help us with Negan. Ya know what he looks like, we don’t”_

_“I can’t help you with Negan”_ I deny _“I don’t know where the man lives, I just met him for a few seconds”_

 _“But ya know what he looks like, that’s_ _enough"_ He writes with puppy dog, glistening eyes _"_ _I'll_ _owe ya one.”_ Daryl hands me the stick to which I point at the dirt, hesitating to give him a response, different scenarios of the dangers I could be putting myself into running in my head.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl Dixon held me cradled in his arms like a child as we waited for the gates to swing open, my eyes reading the sign hung against the metal sheet walling, a welcome and a warning at the same time.  

“Who is she?” A young, stubble bearded gentleman inquires with slanted brows, closing the gate back up

“If ya see Rick, tell ‘em ta meet me inside” Daryl enunciates instead, trudging down the long roadway into a solid, two-story home, sitting me upright on the couch, my leg with the sprained ankle laying straight.

_“I’m goin ta get ya some ice”_

I slant my brows, perplexed at his words

“Shit, I fergot yer deaf” Daryl shakes his head, waltzing to a nearby table grabbing a pad and pen, scribbling

 _“I’m goin’ to get ya some ice”_ I read, nodding my head, the fingers of my right hand on my lips, hand moving forward and a bit down in his direction, thanking him.

“ _That means thank you, right?”_ he writes

I smile, nodding, Daryl leaving me the pen and pad as he exits upstairs, leaving me alone, unaware that someone else has entered inside, roaming around the other rooms behind me.

“Daryl” the gentleman calls, the home silent “Daryl, you here?” he calls again

“Rick” Daryl waltzes down the stairs with icepack in hand

“Spencer said you needed to see me, what’s going on?”

“I found someone who can help us” Daryl leads Rick into the living room, introducing me “This is y/n”

Rick connects his untrusting eyes with those of my own, staring me down “Help us with what, exactly?”

“Negan” Daryl responds placing the blue, cold, icepack on my injured, swollen ankle

“No, we-” Rick lowers his head, shaking it “We killed Negan. I killed Negan”

“No, ya didn’t”

“What are you talking about?”

“The person ya killed wasn’t tha real Negan. She met the real one, more Saviors, inside a home she was scavengin’ in”

 _“What is going on?”_ I write _“Who is this?”_

“Why is she writing?” Rick takes the pad from Daryl’s hand, reading the message 

“‘Cause she’s deaf”

“Oh” Rick takes the pen, moving it along the pad _“I’m Rick, the leader of this community, nice to meet you. I understand you know the real Negan?”_ he hands me the pen and pad, placing the focus back on Daryl “You trust her?”

“Yeah, I do. She wouldn’t be here if I didn’t”

“So you’re vouching for her?”

“Yeah”

“I hope you know that if she betrays us, it’s on you, right?”

_“Not personally, but yes. I only met him for a few seconds”_

Rick takes the pad, eyes skimming over the words, his other hand running along the stubble on his face

“Ya have my word, Rick, she’s my responsibility”

“Did you ask her the questions before you brought her back here?”

“Nah. I didn’t see tha need to since I already trust her”

“I don’t just yet so then I’ll do the honors” his hand grabbing the pen, moving it across the page _“How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why?”_

I grab the pad Rick held towards me, scoffing at the line of questioning, answering them accordingly _“A lot. Zero. Because I don’t want to die and become one of them”_

“Ok” he nods, tossing the pad and pen down on the coffee table “She can join us”

“Alright” Daryl utters “How is Maggie?” he inquires concerningly

“She’s getting worse, we’re going to have to get moving soon, get her to the Hilltop” his eyes landing on my ankle “What happened?”

“She sprained it when she bumped inta me and fell backwards, wasn’t watching where she was goin’”

“She was running from something?”

“Them” Daryl admits “The Saviors”

“They do anything to her?”

“Nah, she said they let ‘er go, unharmed”

“How noble of them” Rick conveys sarcastically “Listen, stay here with her until I come back and get her alright, I need to go and gather everyone else”

Daryl nods his head in agreement. He steps forward and raises my leg, taking a seat on the cushion, placing my ankle to rest on of top of his lap.

I reach over and grab the pen and pad from the table

_“Where did your leader run off to?”_

_“He’s out gatherin’ everyone else”_

_“For?”_

_“One of our people is really ill, we’re takin’ her to go see a doctor”_

_“And I’m guessing I need to tag along in case you run into Saviors, right, see if the real Negan is with them?”_

_"Yer a smart cookie”_

I chuckle, reading him call me such a cutesy name _“You like cookies?”_

Daryl’s lips quirk upwards into a smile _“Who doesn’t?”_

“ _All jokes aside, I’ll take that as a yes, me having to go with your leader. But you’re tagging along though, right?”_

_“Nah, I can’t. I got somethin’ else, somethin’ personal ta take care of”_

Jokingly, I pout my bottom lip in sadness

 _“Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands”_ he continues to write _“Yer surrounded by good people now”_

_“Okay. I’m trusting you, Daryl Dixon”_

_“Likewise”_

Rick ambles back into the room, alternating glances between Daryl and I “We’re all set. Is the ankle bad enough that she can’t walk on her own?”

_“Are ya ok ta walk on yer own?”_

_“Yes”_ I nod _“I’ll just be really slow and limping”_

“Yeah, she’ll be fine ta walk”

“Alright, let her know we’re leaving”

_“Everyone is set to go”_

_“Aw, just when I was getting comfortable”_ I chuckle _“Be a gentleman and help me up?”_

Daryl hands the pen and pad off to Rick and carefully raises my leg, sitting up, his hand extended in my direction.

I smile up at him and grab a hold of his hand, slowly standing, lopsided, all the leverage and weight being placed on my good leg.

“Take care out there and, trust me Rick, she’s on our side”

“Well, you’ve never let me down before” Rick simpers “Watch yourself” he places his hand behind my back, leading me out to the RV, introducing me through pen and paper to his son and other members of his group that will be riding along, helping me inside the mobile home.

 _“Thank you for doing this, helping us”_ Rick writes as Abraham starts the RV and drives out of the gates.

_“It’s the least I could do for one your people saving my life”_

_“That’s always been Daryl’s weakness, saving everyone”_

_“You insinuating that’s a bad thing?”_

_“In this world it can be. One day, he’ll end up trying to save the wrong person”_

_“Like the one’s he’s after?”_

_“That’s what he told you?”_

_“He didn’t have to, I saw it in his eyes. They screamed revenge”_

The RV comes to a stop, the road in front of us blocked. A man is lying down on the ground, battered and bruised, wincing in pain. Hovering above him, staring us down, stands a middle aged gentleman sporting a moustache, his arms down at his sides, a pistol in his waistband and, behind him, five men who I assumed to be the muscle.

_“Any of them you recognize to be Negan?”_

I shake my head

“We doing this?” Abraham inquires

“No”

Everyone but Maggie and I step out of the RV, both for our own safety and the fact that I recognize two of the men from earlier, not in the best of moods or the condition to deal with them yet again, having no choice but to just intently watch on, trying as best I could to read lips through squinted eyes, only making out certain words like ‘take’, ‘supplies’ and ‘kill’ in the whole fifteen minutes conversation, Rick and the others backing away, stepping inside.

 _“What was all that about?”_ I write as Abraham backs up, taking another route

_“Nothing for you to worry about”_

_“Are you serious?”_

_“The less you know the better y/n”_

_“I know more than you apparently. I recognized two of the backup from my encounter with Negan”_

_“They’re not who we want”_

_“Maybe so but they have a better chance of giving you Negan than I do”_

_“And end up getting shot to death? Right now, our only focus is getting Maggie help, that’s it”_

_“Fine”_ I toss the pen and pad on top of the dashboard, eyes focusing on the outside world, wishing to hear the sounds of the birds and the walkers, even the engine of this mobile home that throttles heavy beneath my feet.

Rick reaches forward, grabbing the instruments, writing words and crossing out, rewriting something else, crossing out, his attention averting to the road as the RV once again comes to another stop, more of them now blocking our path.

I sit back with my arms crossed, waiting for our next move, Rick patting Abraham on his arm and, by the RV riding backwards, a deaf one couldn’t help but assume it was an instruction to take another route.

 _“You see there’s more of them this time?”_ Rick writes

_“Yes. I am deaf, not blind”_

_“Being more of them, that means they have numbers”_

_“You think?”_ I roll my eyes, the RV coming to its third stop, walkers, chained together a new problem blocking our path

 _“We’ll handle it, stay here”_ Rick and company tread out, weapons drawn, canvassing the area as they inch closer to the walkers, Rick studying them, studying the weapons lodged into their chests, for reasons unknown to me.

I shake my head as I watch on, confusion in an instant turning to fear and worry as the dust by their feet kicks into the air, chaos breaking out of nowhere, bullets flying one side while Rick wields his axe like a madman in the other, chopping off arms and heads, clearing the path, everyone now quickly scurrying themselves back into the RV, driving on down the road.

_“What the hell was all that?”_

_“They were waiting for us, hiding in the woods”_

_“Well, looks like you took care of most of them”_ wink face _“It’s good and relieving to see that your people really know how to shoot a gun”_

 _“Yeah”_ was his only response, his facial features contorted into one of distress, face and hair wet, covered with beads of sweat, eyes glaring out the window as the RV came to a stop, a group of men, unsurprisingly, yet again, blocking the road, some of them standing tall on hoods of vehicles while others stood tall on cement, armed to the teeth with heavy weapons, ready to fire with just a twitch of the finger.

_“Are we going back?”_

_“We don’t have a choice”_

_“Where?”_ I hold the pen and pad out towards him but he doesn’t accept it so, instead, I write something else _“None of them were Negan by the way”_

_“I’m not surprised, letting his men do all the dirty work for him”_

_“Yeah, I guess”_ I reply, Rick placing the pen and pad on the dashboard after reading, urging Abraham to continue driving.

The path for half the drive was quiet and clear, not a walker or Savior in sight but we all knew, deep down, that we would run into them eventually. We all knew that the road would in some way be blocked and, much to our dismay, it was by large piles of logs, the RV, for the millionth time now, coming to a halt under a highway bridge.

Rick and company step out, studying the view before them, thinking up ideas as I watched on from the inside, my mouth in an instant opening agape as a body is slung over the bridge, hanging by a rope, my eyes only able to view the posterior of the individual, assuming it to be the wounded man from our first encounter.

I stand and limp over to the doorway, my hand slamming against the metal, grabbing their attention, waving them to come back in. At first, they denied, shaking their head, eyes glaring up at the bridge in unison, either staring at the body, or at another person, neither of those being a good thing and so, to avert their attention, I go to slam my hand for a second time, stopping myself once seeing the piles of logs catching fire, flames and smoke gradually rising towards the orange colored sky, Rick and the rest of the crew making the decision to now return to the RV on their own and back up, driving to a dislocated location, opening a map, coming up with a different plan, a different and, hopefully, safe route.

 _“You guys have a plan?”_ I question once witnessing Rick nod in agreement

_“Yes”_

_“Care to fill me in?”_

_“We all carry Maggie and walk through the woods to the hilltop. Eugene will drive the RV, distract the Saviors”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“Because they’re not waiting on us, they’re waiting on the RV. It’s the only option we have of successfully getting through them at this point”_

_“Alright, fine, let’s do it”_ I toss the pen and pad aside and stand, gradually limping my way outdoors into the night sky.

Rick and the others follow suite with a pale Maggie, having a word with Eugene before sending him on his way and us going on ours, delving deep into the darkness, into the unknown, constantly roaming our eyes around our surroundings.

Suddenly everyone pauses midway, frantically twisting and turning their heads like an owl in every direction possible as if towards a sound, eyes blinded by bright, white, headlights belonging to various trucks and motorcycles.

Regaining our vision, we notice the same men, hundreds of them now, surrounding us, the familiar middle aged gentleman with the moustache stepping forward, throwing around orders I was clearly unable to hear.

This is what they call monkey see, monkey do I guess as I watch Rick and the others, doing exactly as they do, lowering down onto my knees, my palms, sweaty and shaking, rubbing nervously up and down my thighs, swallowing back tears.

The mustached gentleman speaks, my glistening orbs only witnessing the movement of his lips, unable to read a single word, only sitting there, waiting as he goes on and on, moving his hands, calling his men forward, eventually understanding he was ordering them, the men bringing forth Eugene, an African American woman, another female with a green uniform and disheveled hair, an Asian male, and Daryl, my eyes opening wide at the sight of Daryl with a wounded, bloody shoulder and a blanket draped over him, forced onto his knees by a blonde haired man with a half burned face.

Instinctively, I stand, an excruciating pain piercing through my ankle as I try and make my way to him, rough felt, manly, hands wrapping around my arms, forcing me down back onto my knees, the gravel I kneel on scraping against my skin.

A tear slides down my cheek, glaring down the mustached man as he snakes to the RV, our RV, balling up his fist and knocking away, the door swinging open and out stepping the salt and pepper bearded man with the red scarf and black leather jacket, holding his precious barb wired baseball bat proudly on his shoulder.

I quickly lower my head, hair covering my face as he kicks up gravel and dust, halting his dark boots in front of Rick, arrogantly smirking away, eventually those same boots moving along down the line, slowly, step by heavy step, stopping in front of me.

My heart pounds heavy like a drum inside my chest, tear filled y/e/c eyes staring at his boots.

He kneels down, glove covered fingers grabbing a hold of my chin, raising my head, same fingers tucking the strands of my hair behind my ears.

 _“Well, hello there, darling”_ he grins, motioning his translator to step forward  _“I just knew I’d be seeing you again”_


	4. Chapter 4

He was a monster with fingertips gentle and soft like a feather, caressing my cheek dry of the tears that poured from my eyes like a stream. His pink lips cock into a grin, white teeth flashing brighter than the moon that shined down from the night sky.

 _"You’re too beautiful to cry, princess”_ his translator, Eddie, signs for him with the simple movement of his hands and fingers _“You have my word that I am not going to hurt you but I do want to know why you lied to me”_

I shake my head, signing away a response _“I didn’t lie about anything”_

 _“Sure you did!”_ Negan stands, hovering above me tall like a tower _“The last time we talked you said you were alone and have been for a long while, no?”_

_“That’s because I was. I didn’t come across these people until after you let me go”_

He clicks his tongue, ungloved hand running along the strands of his coarse beard _“After I let you go, huh?”_

 _“Yes”_ My head slowly nods, eyes squinting in anger, staring him down

 _“Well”_ Negan scoffs _“I sure as shit won’t be making that same fucking mistake twice”_ he canters forward, smiling as he pokes out his tongue, running it across his lips _“You’re coming with me baby, stand up, I don’t want you seeing what is about to happen”_

I shake my head frantically in denial while Negan does the opposite, leather covered fingers wrapping around my wrist, forcing me onto my feet, pain surging through my ankle.  

“Let ‘er go!” Daryl shouts, leaning forward on the dirt, ready to pounce like a lion on its prey at any given moment

“Whoa, hold on one fucking minute” Negan drags me in front of Daryl, alternating glances between him and I, smirking mischievously “You-” he chuckles “Are you two together?”

Daryl exhales a strong whiff of air, inhaling deeply, calming himself  

“What, no answer?” he lowers Lucille from his shoulder, pointing her in front of Daryl’s pale, weary, face in a threatening manner

“No” Daryl responds through gritted teeth, brown eyes gazing at the fat end of the wooden weapon “We’re not together”

Negan chuckles mockingly, swinging Lucille back on his shoulder “Alright then, was that so fucking hard?” he turns his head, placing his focus back on me, dark eyes raking over my cola bottle shaped figure, making my skin crawl with goosebumps, my stomach churn with disgust. I try to wiggle out of his hold but his grip grows tighter with each attempt, the indentations of his fingers marking my skin red like a tattoo _“Oh, feisty, aren’t we?”_ he jokes, guiding me to the white van, the same one they had Daryl in, instructing, motioning for me to step inside, he and his numerous men armed to the teeth with guns leaving me no choice but to abide.

He winks an eye and shuts the back doors, locking me in darkness. I sigh in defeat and lean against the body of the car, turning my head, eyes averting to the mini window, curious, yet fearful to even bother and sneak a peek.

Minutes pass, then hours, darkness turning to light. I close my tired, sleep ridden orbs, the doors swinging back open, another body being tossed in beside me with ease.

Daryl.

The doors shut back up harshly. Daryl gathers himself, sitting up next to me, adjusting the brown blanket draped around his dirt and blood covered shoulders. I place my index finger on the floor mat and spell out a simple question.

Daryl gradually moves his lips, mouthing off each letter as I glide my finger across the mat _“A-R-E Y-O-U O-K-A-Y?”_

He nods in confirmation, spelling out a message of his own _“Y-O-U?”_

I reciprocate the gesture, smiling softly at the injured man beside me, a single tear sliding down my cheek.

Daryl reaches forward and grabs a hold of my hand, his long, dirt covered fingers interlocking with those of my own, small, clammy, and thin. I scoot closer next to him and rest my head on his good shoulder, closing my eyes, another tear sliding down my cheek.

“We’ll be okay” he mumbles to himself, swollen, bloodshot orbs fixed down on my soaked, tired face “We’ll be okay”

The driver and passenger side doors creak open, Negan and one of his men stepping inside. Negan turns his head, witnessing Daryl and I in the close embrace, scoffing “You’re not together, huh?” he turns back, eyes forward, throwing around orders to the man next to him. The car starts, engine throttling beneath my feet, this white van taking us to a place foreign, to a place deserted, to Negan’s sanctuary.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Discontinued for the time being*

Hours on the road felt like an eternity, the van finally coming to an abrupt stop. The back doors slowly open, Negan and his muscle glaring at Daryl and I with smug expressions.

“Let’s go” Negan raises his gloved hand, motioning for us to step out, his index finger pointing straight down at the dirt

Daryl swivels his head to me and nods, his grip reassuringly clenching tighter around my hand as we both stand in unison and amble outdoors, our eyes immediately landing on the giant factory that stood before us, staring in wonderment at its size and structure.

Negan gradually inches forward, his free hand grabbing a hold of my forearm, pulling me away from my daze, away from Daryl, handing me off to one of his men.

“Ya have no business with ‘er” Daryl snarls “Keep me and let ‘er go”

Negan forms a wad of saliva in his mouth, disgustingly spitting it on the brownish dirt by his leather boots, his dark orbs threateningly fixated on Daryl’s worn out features “What business I have with the lady is none of your fucking concern. You are both staying” he spews “Am I making myself fucking clear on that?”

Daryl bobs his head in understanding, jaw clenched tight in anger  

“Good!” Negan mumbles enthusiastically, patting Daryl’s back, behind his wounded shoulder “That being said, while you are here, she is off limits. You do not talk to her, you do not look at her, and you sure as shit do not touch her. She-” his finger pointing in my direction “Is no longer motherfucking existent to you” he sneers, focus going on the blonde haired individual with the burned face “Dwight, get Daryl here in uniform and place him in the cell, would you?”

“Yeah” The blonde haired Savior grabs a fistful of Daryl’s back collar, dragging him away inside the building, out of sight but not out of mind.  

I swallow hard as Negan simpers broadly, flashing his teeth, white and sharper than a knife blade

 _“Where did you take him?”_ I sign to the translator, his mouth relaying the message to his boss

Negan chuckles as he steps forward, hand running along his facial hair, darkened eyes screaming trouble. He snickers, shaking his head, the roughness of his gloves itching against my skin as his digits wrapped around my wrist _“A room, sweetheart”_ I read with my eyes, brows lowered in bewilderment, limping next to his side as he led the way indoors, people simultaneously lowering down to their knees in his presence signifying either respect, fear, or both.  

The halls to wherever Negan and his men were taking me were long, dimly lit, and chilly, full of twists and turns like a maze. A newbie like me is sure to get lost out here on her own like a child without a chaperone. And, for the time being, that is exactly what Negan was, showing me around until we eventually reached an opened door, waltzing inside a room I assumed to be the infirmary, judging by the medical equipment and the man in the white overcoat.

“Negan” the doctor greets “What can I do for you?”

“I have an injured woman here, I need you to take a look at her ankle”

“Of course, just sit her down on the exam table” Negan motions me over, one arm around my midsection, picking me up with ease and sitting me on the blue padding, the leg with the injured ankle resting straight.   

“What is her name?”

“Shit, I have yet to know that myself, doc” he comments, never receiving the said information “Eddie, ask her her name again”

_“The doctor needs to know your name”_

I huff, shaking my head _“Y/n”_

A smile creeps on Negan’s lips upon hearing the sound of my identity, finally, urging the doctor to continue on.

The doctor brings forward his hands and takes off my shoe, thoroughly examining my ankle, pressing his finger on the swollen area and even around it, each stroke causing me to wince in pain and jerk my leg away

“Yeah, her ankle is very badly swollen, lucky she didn’t break it”

“Well, no shit doc, that’s why she’s here” Negan retorts “Fucking fix it”

The man in the white overcoat heads over to a cabinet and grabs a roll of an ace bandage and some ice in a pack “This should do it” he parades closer and extends the bandage wrapping it around my ankle multiple times securely, over and over until there was none left. He brings forward the ice, holding it on top of the bandage _“Be sure to ice your ankle daily, the swelling will go down quicker”_ he instructs _“And try to stay off your feet as much as possible”_

I nod, heeding his instructions from Eddie, my focus now planted on the gentlemanly asshole in the black leather jacket.

“Thanks doc” Negan acknowledges taking the ice and helping me down from the table, instructing one of his men to put on my shoe for me. He grabs my tiny wrist and leads me out of the room, all of us once again roaming through a maze like lab rats, now coming to a halt in front of a black door.

Negan releases his hold on me and extends his hand forward, grabbing at the knob, turning it, the wooden frame swinging open _“After you, darling”_

Hesitantly, I limp inside, my orbs wandering around, taking in the beautiful, shabby chic, décor of the large space divided into two. One side was a bed, the other, a living room.

 _“Have a seat”_ Negan motions to a black, leather couch chair.

I do as instructed and sit across from the devil himself, hand clasped in front of me on my lap, injured foot laying straight on the grayish carpet, Eddie placing the ice on it, per Negan’s orders.

 _“Thank you”_ I sign, Negan nodding his head _“But I know I am not here because of an injury, so why exactly am I here?”_

 _“Don’t fucking mention it”_ Negan responds resting Lucille against the edge of the couch, his hand pointing to a pitcher on the glass table _“Would you care for some lemonade, sweetheart?”_

 _“No, I want you to answer my question, why am I here?”_ I repeat, quickly moving my hands, signifying annoyance and anger, Negan only pouring himself a glass of the sugary liquid, leaning back in his seat, chuckling nonchalantly

_“You sure you don’t want any, it tastes fucking magnificent!”_

I shook my head. Having had enough, I bring up my hand and flash him my middle finger, the fear from before no longer existent.

Negan chuckles, gloved index finger pointing in my direction _“That is why you’re here”_


End file.
